


Spankings and Spanky Pants

by kat8cha



Category: Marvel (Movies)
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, Porn Without Plot, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-28
Updated: 2012-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-30 06:25:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/328757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kat8cha/pseuds/kat8cha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SHIELD has a dress code, Clint likes to break that dress code, Tony likes to challenge Clint. Coulson, ever the disciplinarian, punishes Clint for a skirt that's just too short.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spankings and Spanky Pants

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Clint Barton's short lived [minidress ](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lnql40h2zO1qlkhtyo1_500.jpg) period and conversations with Dazzledfirestar.

"Sir."

Barton's insouciant nature had a way of turning terms of respect into near insults, it was the kind of rebelliousness that would generally have been ground into the dust during basic training. Barton's unnerving marksmanship had never gotten him any special treatment but it had served as a touchstone of confidence for the other man. "Barton." Coulson did not bother looking up from his monitor instead he scrolled through the emails that were the reason for Barton's visit. "I just received no less than fifteen emails complaining about-" That was when he looked up and over at Clint because his next words were going to be 'you breaking dress code again' because it had been brought up more than once that Clint (aka Hawkeye) ignored SHIELD's suit and tie rigmarole when he couldn't wear BDU or his Hawkeye uniform, however Coulson's train of thought was derailed by the picture before him.

Barton was dressed in what could only be described as a 'mini-dress'. It came down past his crotch, thankfully, but barely to mid-thigh and it was stretched tightly there in a manner that implied that it rode up whenever Barton walked. The dress was navy blue with a wide purple belt around the middle and purple edging up the neckline that plunged all the way down to Clint's belt and was kept from exposing his stomach by a small corset tie. "What are you wearing?" Phil eventually forced out.

Coulson could see what Barton wasn't wearing. He wasn't wearing pants, leggings, or any sort of tights. 

Barton shifted on his feet; one hand strayed almost to the edge of the dress like he would attempt to pull it down before he clasped his hand behind his back. "One of Stark's uniform designs, he seemed to believe the reason I chose not to wear it was because I couldn't preform in it." 

Coulson would never do something so obvious as rub at his temples, it did little to relieve the pressure headache that Stark's antics often brought on. Stark was the Avengers member most likely to cause public or private outcry. SHIELD personnel lodged complaints about Tony's actions daily, some of the complaints were placed by Avenger's members themselves. Banner had filled out three complaint forms, Natasha generally saved her Tony Stark related complaints for a weekly diatribe sent directly to Fury, even Thor had come to Coulson once. "You can't perform in that." Because how could Clint possibly go out in public in a mini-dress without causing traffic accidents and a constant explosion of ovaries?

He didn't think that, he really didn't think that.

"I can." Clint rolled his shoulders, his mouth set in a stubborn line that Coulson knew too well at this point. "And I proved it to Stark. I'm sure the security footage from 12:55 to 1:42 will soon be circulating the network." The stubborn line twitched into a smirk. "We're also going to need to replace some of the equipment in workout room 3b." 

Coulson took his eyes off Clint to do a check on the network's activity, sure enough there was video footage already starting to make the rounds. He saved it to his hard drive for later viewing before turning back to Clint.

Who was now straddling the corner of his desk, one hand planted on Coulson's usual piles of almost finished paperwork and a look on his face that spelled trouble. Thankfully the locks to Coulson's office could be electronically triggered from his desk and a few key strokes would activate the program on his computer that would start a loop of the security footage of the past five minutes for however long Phil wanted. Phil took care of both things automatically before he leaned back in his chair. "Mister Barton."

Clint grinned. "Sir."

Phil eyed the plunging neckline, it did nothing to hide Barton's musculature, nor did the bare arms of the dress or the short skirt. "You're out of uniform, Barton." Clint shifted, pushing himself further onto Coulson's desk, messing up the carefully stacked documents in Phil's outbox. 

"There's nothing in the rulebook about guys not being allowed to wear skirts, sir." Which was true enough and they had a few SHIELD representatives who had, at one point or another, worn a kilt in. Still the hemline of Barton's dress was far too high to be SHIELD regulation and Barton knew it.

"All skirts must fall no more than an inch above the knee." Phil pushed himself out of his chair and walked around his desk until he stood in front of Clint, then he gestured that Clint should stand up as well. Clint pushed himself off the corner of Phil's desk with easy grace, although his muscles rippled as he made a show of it. The dress shifted around Clint's body, tight in all the right places and doing nothing to hide the bulge growing between Barton's shapely and all too revealed legs. Phil stepped up so he was pressed against Barton's slightly shorter body and reached over his desk to pull open the top drawer and grab his ruler. He pressed Clint briefly back against the hard edge of his desk before he stepped back and slapped his ruler against his hand.

Barton jumped. 

"Stand still." Phil knelt in front of Clint and glanced up at him through his eyelashes before he pressed the ruler against Clint's thigh. The dress rose four inches above Clint's knee and it rose half an inch more when Clint took a deep breath. Coulson tsked and smacked Clint's thigh with the ruler before he tugged the dress down and measured it again. "Three inches too high, Mister Barton." Phil looked up at Clint, suppressing the smirk and looking serious wasn't hard although he was sure that the hunger showed through. Clint was slightly flushed, now, but he was controlling his breathing and doing his best to appear as carefree as ever.

Though he couldn't hid his erection, Phil's was trapped by his over-starched trousers but the tight dress outlined the erection trapped by what had to be some form of underwear. "And that neckline is against regulation as well." Phil stood up and pressed the ruler against Clint's chest, his thumb graced Clint's nipple briefly while he shifted the ruler and then his fingers brushed against Clint's neck. "No neckline should expose more than 33% of the bosom." It was a rule that some might call 'antiquated' or 'ridiculously exact' but it was a rule that SHIELD had found useful when dealing with 'superhero' types. It seemed that 'superpowers' made men and women both want to strip off their clothes and dance around in their underwear. Phil was suddenly grateful that Stark did not know of the rule on bosom exposure, eh would probably have designed a new Iron Man suit just to violate it. "You're going to have to change."

"I didn't bring anything else to wear, sir." Clint protested although both knew that was a lie. Barton no doubt had his usual Hawkeye uniform stored in the base as well as two pairs of workout clothes as well as the spare change of clothing required of all SHIELD field agents just in case an operation got messy. 

SHIELD had a lot of rules about clothing but they all made perfect sense.

"Then you'll have to be punished." Coulson cleared his throat. The authoritative role was easy to take, especially when he was playing off Clint's often sarcastic submissive role, but some things came harder than others.

Pun unintended.

Phil loosened his tie and considered the picture Clint made. Dressed in little more than a flimsy piece of cloth, rippling with muscles and brimming over with vitality and snark… and all his. Mostly, anyway, Phil didn't count what sharing he had to do with the world, the Avengers, and Natasha as something to worry about. "Bend over the desk, Mister Barton." Phil slipped his tie through his collar and rolled it up before carefully he placed it in the pocket of his suit coat and shrugged out of his coat. The coat went on the back of the chair that sat across from his desk which Coulson then carefully pushed out of the way, all the while Clint stood with his legs spread and his hands placed on either side of Phil's paperwork. It was an attractive sight and made Coulson's cock twitch.

"Very good, Mister Barton." Phil stroked a hand over Clint's ass. "Your continued good behavior could go a long way to wiping out your past actions." It was a nice ass, muscular and just right to squeeze… or spank.

Clint twisted around to smirk over his shoulder at Coulson. "Here I thought I was still being naughty… sir." The comment earned Clint a sharp spank with the flat of Phil's hand which caused the flush on Clint's cheeks to darken and his breathing to become deeper as he strained to keep it even.

"What you are is being punished." Phil pushed the hem of the mini-dress up, ridiculously grateful to see Barton was wearing a pair of extremely short bike shorts underneath although what he was wearing underneath those Coulson wasn't sure he wanted to find out. "I think eighteen strokes should do it, six for every inch above the knee." Phil slid the ruler over Clint's ass which caused the other man to shiver slightly. "I expect you to count, Mister Barton." 

Then he pulled the ruler back and brought it back down.


End file.
